


Distant Dreams

by Layni1771



Series: Stray Kids AUs [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Friendship, Gen, Heavy Angst, Illness, Minho is a badass, You can argue MinhoxFelix, Zombie Apocalypse, but once again it's gen, might come back to update the tags later, or MinhoxSeungmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 06:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13781640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Layni1771/pseuds/Layni1771
Summary: Lee Minho was the type who always thought about his future. That was because he was assuming he had one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Major character death is a thing. This is the second in my Stray Kids AU series, I was gonna post it tomorrow but my movie won't load SO Layni is back at it again already.  
> Angst with literally no comfort okay.  
> [TRIGGER WARNINGS:] Character death, graphic violence, suicide warning in the bonus  
> Hope you enjoy~ I don't normally like zombie!AUs so this was totally new for me. Zombies are referred to as biters, by the way.

Lee Minho had not expected the end to come about so quickly, if he was being honest. He thought that, even in that broken and ruined world of theirs, that he would have more time. After all, it had seemed like there was all the time in the world in those endlessly long hours the nine of them spent together, trying to _survive_. It was like their days would never end, but now he knew. He knew they would end.

His eyes fluttered shut.

\---

"Minho hyung, really, it's not that serious of a cut," Hyunjin denied, attempting to tug away from the elder's grip. The cut on his leg was bleeding only sluggishly, but Minho was not taking any chances. Anxiety bubbled up in his throat at the thought, and he firmly held his friend in place, looking to Woojin for help. The oldest of the group sighed, placing a hand on Hyunjin's shoulder as he crouched down to look him in the eyes. The teen avoided his gaze, eyes searching anywhere but where they were wanted, and Woojin squeezed his shoulder a bit, "Ow, Woojin hyung!"

"You know we can't take chances like that. Besides, Chan will be angry when he comes back and finds out you didn't get treated," His attempts at reasoning fell on deaf ears, but at least kept the other distracted as Minho worked, dipping his fingers into the plastic jar of salve and swiping it quickly across the wound. Hyunjin moaned in pain, his head falling forward onto Woojin's shoulder as Minho's deft fingers spread the disinfectant and firmly placed a waterproof bandage on top. After ensuring it was sealed with a run of his fingers around the edges, he patted the young boy's cheek with a smile.

"There, all done!" He spoke as though he were speaking to a child, but in truth...They were all just children anyway. He cleared his throat and stepped away, offering a thankful smile to Woojin who simply nodded and allowed Hyunjin the time he needed to breathe. Minho felt guilt catch in his chest- Hyunjin had an avoidance to getting treated for any injuries he came back with. It stemmed from some sort of childhood ritual he had with his family before everything had happened. From what Minho understood, the teen had been considered the "family nurse," and now that there was no blood family left to speak of...It was one of his triggers. They all had them, and the other boys tried to accomodate where they could. But to Minho, he could not risk losing one of his closest friends to an infection. There was no way.

Not on his watch. There was time for Hyunjin to be upset later.

He wiped his hands on the rag that he'd been wringing with worry while the others were gone. Behind him, Felix snored, exhausted from his previous night watch. Minho laid a hand on the sleeping boy's forehead, watching his face scrunch for a brief moment before settling back down. He snorted- When asleep, even in their situation, Felix was dead to the world. Minho winced at his own poor choice of wording, even to himself, and slid out of the living room, leaving Woojin to deal with Hyunjin. The brunet would not want to see him for the next few hours at least, and he deserved his space. So instead of hovering, Minho would leave him in good hands with their eldest.

With a quick tick of his head, he began to make a mental list of their supplies as he entered the room where their things were kept. Minho knelt down by the nearest backpack and took items out one by one, the way he was apt to whenever the whole team was not together. It soothed his anxiety, even as he spread out Jeongin's hoodie and nearly dropped Jisung's comb. He smiled at the small item- It was something that Jisung had brought from his home, and he had always kept it, citing its practical uses. They may be dirty and in a rotting world, but they still had to be hygenic if they wanted to survive. _Combing your hair is part of that! And it keeps your spirits up._

Minho would never argue with him over it. It _was_ useful, and it gave his dear friend peace of mind. How could he possibly argue with that? But those thoughts sent him spiraling into the overwhelming mess of anxiety. When would the others return? Chan and Jeongin had gone to the East on a supply run, while Jisung, Changbin, and Seungmin had gone on one to the South. Already, Woojin and Hyunjin had returned from their own to the West while Minho had guarded the sleeping Felix. He bit his lip in worry, repacking the bag and mentally adding the contents Woojin and Hyunjin had secured to his list. He waited with a pounding heart for the special knock to the window to come even as he unpacked and packed more bags, recalcuating his list every time he finished.

He had all the time in the world.

When Jeongin, Chan, Changbin, Seungmin, and Jisung returned, they did not comment on Hyunjin's refusal to look Minho in the eyes or the way Minho clung to Chan like he was a lifeline.

\---

His eyes burned but Minho did not stop moving, body flowing like water as he dodged the wide-sweeping, rotted arms that came for him. The useless tears that came every time he was frightened did not make him falter, even as he slammed his elbow into the biter's softened skull, sending it sprawling to the ground. Its flesh _squelched_ as it landed on the concrete, but he gave it no thought as he slammed down the heel of his boot on its head, sending blood and greyed bits of what was left of the disease-consumed brain spraying in all directions. The fabric mask that covered the lower half of Minho's face protected him from the matter, but he whipped around, eyes searching wildly.

There would be time to worry about cleaning himself later.

His teary brown eyes found Seungmin cornered, and he shouted defiantly, launching his body at one of the three biters that _dared_ get close to his dear friend, the rusting knife in his hand already tearing through flesh and malleable bone as he kicked out the legs of the one directly to the right. This left the third to Seungmin even as Minho rolled over the first one's body, dangerously wrapping an arm around the second's neck and squeezing, attempting to find enough leverage to sit up with it still in his grasp. He finally found purchase, his left hand's knife effortlessly slicing the rotting tendons of the jaw. It hung open uselessly, no longer able to bite as it moaned. The sound was grating and terrible, but Minho released his grip around its neck, instead grasping its dirty hair and slamming its face on the ground until there was almost nothing left but mush.

Seungmin had sunk to the ground after ridding himself of the third biter, back pressed to the brick wall and eyes wide as he watched the older's violent actions. They had all done terrible things since the infection, yes, but Seungmin had never seen that kind of violence from Minho. He was always deadly efficiency.

"Not...Not _that_ ," Jeongin whimpered later that night to Minho. After the shitshow that was their latest move, Chan had called a group meeting to see what they had lost and go over how to better handle an ambush like that one in the future. His dark, worried eyes locked on Minho.

"It was reckless of you, man. We have to do what we have to do to protect ourselves from the biters, but that was stupidity, not protection. You were too close to being bitten, Min, and I-" He cut himself off, shaking his head, "Don't do it again."

"I'm sorry," Minho whispered weakly, leaning into Seungmin's embrace.

He had all the time in the world to apologize again later.

That night, it was Felix who wiped the stray tears off his face. They didn't mention it in the morning, and Minho accepted the younger's clinginess through the rest of the day.

\---

His fever was running high, Minho knew. He sweated profusely and writhed in the pile of blankets, hazy memories of what had been and what was clouding together in one confusing happening. Chan had forbid anyone but himself and Woojin entering the room, only allowing the younger ones to bring the water, food, and cloths to the door. Changbin occasionally held conversations in the hardly-opened doorway, low and muttering, and Minho could not understand a single word that was spoken.

It had begun as a simple cold. They had all gotten sick before, after the infection and spread and people turned, but never had it been so serious. For Minho, it did not stay a simple cold. It had aggressively turned into something much worse very quickly. Some of the last words Minho had been able to pick out before he could no longer understand the world around him was Woojin's _"acute pneumonia...I was a kid..."_ and while it didn't mean anything to him in that moment, before he had eloquently thought, _Oh fuck. I'm dead._ Because there was almost no way to get the amount of antibiotics he would need to kick this illness. Assuming it was what Woojin thought it was.

Either way, Minho only knew that he was painful and uncomfortable and he moaned. Chan sighed, sitting cross-legged by his head as he laid a soothingly cool hand on the damp forehead. He brushed his fingers through the matted hair, whispering words that would never reach him. Minho was unsure just who was touching him- _Mom? Chan hyung? Woojin hyung? The school nurse?_ \- But he savored the feeling, mumbling syllables that were meant to be words.

There would be time to make sense of them later, probably.

He clumsily pulled the blankets away from his shoulders, feeling suffocated as his lungs wheezed. Someone to the right murmured scoldings and took the blankets off completely, leaving him shivering and reaching up. He felt cool air hit his body as the blankets were fluffed out before being laid back over his aching body. Minho's whole being shook with the force of his coughs, the croupy sound painful to all that could hear them. From outside the door, the younger kids and Changbin listened from the hallway.

Jeongin leaned heavily into Jisung's side, and Jisung petted the top of his head. _Don't come in_ , Chan had said, _We can't have you getting sick, too._ Of course, that begged the question, _What if you and Woojin get sick?_

There was a reason they had left Changbin out there with them.

Inside the room, Minho squeezed his hot, swollen eyes shut. Tears tracked down his cheeks, chapped lips gasping for breath. There were cobwebs in his lungs, he thought. They tickled and they filled what should have been empty space. His left hand scratched at the wooden floors, pulling at his short fingernails. Woojin covered the sign of suffering with a hand of his own, grasping it tightly. He did not mind the blunt nails that tried to mark his skin, and he did not exchange a word with Chan when Minho's less-pleasant memories finally mixed too much with the ones of his life before everything. Instead, the eldest held Minho down even as he struggled and cried to be let go in that raspy and clogged voice.

Chan quietly assured him that there were no biters in the room, speaking the words directly into Minho's ears, but the ill man could not make sense of a thing. He, too, held down his younger friend, as the protests grew louder and more clumsy. He directed a worried look to the window, praying that none would be alerted of their presence in the most recent hideout. If biters heard and came...He could not afford to protect Minho in that situation.

Changbin forced the younger members out of the hallway and to the room where supplies were kept, where they could not hear their dying friend's desperate pleas. Minho soon began to fall into a deep unconsciousness, but before he could, he thought to himself.

He had all of the time in the world to get better.

There was no school to get back to, no job to stop calling out from. Instead, he had friends that were worrying about him, and he would be damned before he left them for a simple illness.

His eventual recovery left a palpable sense of relief in the group, even if Minho never quite gained back the stamina and health he had before getting sick.

\---

It had been that bout of illness that ruined him, in the end. Minho had never quite been able to breathe the same after, and Chan did whatever he could to avoid sending him outside for supply or defense missions. Instead, he was most often left as a last line of defense or given night watches, so that he still pulled his weight. Minho was told to ration the food and hygiene supplies, to warn when things were running low, and to keep an eye on everyone's health. It was almost ironic, in a way, but he only minded because of the anxiety it gave him.

He never thought that he would get so out of shape. Rather, that he would lose the ability to keep his muscle mass. He still worked out, but he could not do anything too hard for too long. His lungs would scream in protest and he would not be able to breathe correctly for hours if he pushed himself too hard. His legs would become like liquid and he would collapse, unable to push himself up. Chan wanted to avoid any situation where Minho would be fighting, because he knew that the younger no longer stood much of a chance. Their once deadly-efficient biter killer had been reduced to the weakest link, even with his bright smiles and willingness to listen to whatever the others had to confide in him.

Minho did not comment on his weak body.

There would be time for that later.

He could bring up his concerns about getting in the way in the future. Until then, he would stay protected in the middle of their pack as they moved locations. The last one had been discovered by biters and was crawling with them. There were too many for them to fight off, and surely more coming. Forced to leave more than half of their supplies, Minho knew the group was going to be suffering for a long time with the sudden move.

They had been able to grab their weapons, however, and Minho flipped the newer knife in his hand. He had recently gotten the chance to replace his rusting one when, on one of his now-rare ventures to the outside world, he and Changbin had stumbled upon a hunting supplies shop that had been nearly completely ignored. It had been tucked in a far corner of the town, hardly visible until you were directly in front of it. Minho assumed that it had been closed and forgotten even before the infection, and he and Changbin had pleased everyone with their new weapons. He himself had become quite fond of the shining knife. A small smile quirked his lips even in the serious situation.

The nine moved as one, a single unit that filtered through the empty streets. Though he could not see much from his point in the middle, flanked on all sides, his sharp eyes still searched for any sign that they were in danger. Jeongin stumbled on a stray rock from just in front of him, and Minho flung a hand out, grasping the youngest's elbow tightly to steady him. Jeongin smiled brightly back, nodding his thanks. Jisung moved from Minho's left to in front of him as the street became more narrow, attempting to slip past the car. Felix urged them to keep moving with a light push on Minho's lower back and he complied, eyes darting back for just a moment.

For just a moment.

A hand that everyone had missed grasped onto Minho's ankle, coming from under that car as his strangled yell echoed in the streets. Felix hardly had time to startle and Chan to turn before the biter crawled out, on top of Minho. Had it been anyone else, they would have been able to push the rotting biter away. But the moment his back slammed into the ground, his lungs wheezed and his vision spotted black and there were teeth biting into the soft flesh of his throat.

Minho gurgled as his throat was ripped out, eyes just barely meeting Seungmin's horrified ones as they fluttered shut.

He realized.

Minho did not have all the time in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus drabble.

"I won't do it, Jisung," Chan denied vehemently, shaking his head violently at the offered weapon. The bloody sight of Minho's throat being ripped out only weeks before was still fresh in his mind, and the grief clung to his insides. He would not- _Could not_ , do it. Jisung's teary eyes pleaded with him, and he shuffled forward again. Like a wave effect, the remaining seven boys took wide steps back, and he looked around helplessly. Chan cursed himself.

"Hyung, _please_ ," He whimpered, "I can't- I'm not-"

 _I won't be me anymore_ hung in the air even if he failed to vocalize it. His wet breathing filled the empty spaces of the room, and the blood on his arm stood out stark against the white shirt he had worn. It was torn and bloodied. Jisung's arm held the nasty effects of a biter's bite, the arm already beginning its transformation. The skin was torn and black, hanging off and _ohsopainful_. He couldn't not calm his stuttering chest as he cried, roughly shoving the knife in front of him again. The eldest two exchanged looks that could not be described, but Chan repeated himself, this time his voice weak and thready.

"I won't do it Jisung."

"Fi-fine then," Jisung heaved, shakily standing up. Chan raised his voice as the boy stumbled closer to the door, blood spattering on the floor.

"And I'm not going to just let you leave, either-" But just as he finished speaking the words, Jisung fell to his knees in front of the useless radiator, slamming his head into it. Jeongin yelped, and Hyunjin sobbed, but no one stopped their friend as he continued to hit his head on the heavy metal. Dark blood smeared across its surface but Jisung did not relent, the resounding _bangs_ shaking them to the core. Finally, Jisung's weak body fell to the side, unmoving. Chan took hesitant steps towards the fallen boy and he kneeled, lightly touching his shoulder.

He flopped over, and the elder could hardly hold back his bile at the sight of Jisung's bashed-in skull.

There was no time left for Jisung.


End file.
